


Meeting The Winchesters

by timmyyturnerr



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Death, Implied Relationships, Minor Character Death, anyway, boys can still read this, but - Freeform, fuck what do i wanna say, honestly i just really want this to connect with as many FEMALES as possible, i love boys, i was going to add some destiel eyefucking but, idk - Freeform, if i was a guy i'd wanna be a girl, not that i dont like you, pretend ur a girl, shameless flirting, sort of, there are more girls in the fandom, this is a cool fic i thought of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 15:48:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timmyyturnerr/pseuds/timmyyturnerr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine if, one day, you met the Winchesters.</p><p>Fic is in your perspective! Written in a girl's point of view.</p><p>There are no spoilers for Supernatural, besides mentions of a single episode and what happens in it. xx</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meeting The Winchesters

**Author's Note:**

> The way that you meet them is inspired from a post that I cant find! If you know what tumblr post I'm talking about, PLEASE tell me so I can link it. I didn't steal this work WHATSOEVER from that post, just inspired.
> 
> I wrote this on a whim. 
> 
> Castiel is super serious in this fic, so he MAY be sort of OOC. If I decide to write a second chapter/turn this into a series, I'll make sure to write him better.
> 
> I'm not sure if I want to make this fic into a destiel fic, because this fic is about YOU and it's supposed to make YOU feel better about yourself. I know a lot of people aren't going to want to read this if I turn it into a destiel fic, because they ship Wincest, Megstiel ect ect. 
> 
> Opinions?

You slam your locker door shut and sigh to yourself as the hoard of seniors around you laugh and celebrate, some of them crying, some of them looking as confused and worried as you feel.  
It was your last day of school- ever. And, yeah, you could've done better. Like, way better. You failed two classes because of the downward spiral you went on this year. Everything- all of your dreams, down the drain. None of the collages you wished for accepted you. All you have to look forward to is a summer of blogging, re-watching your favorite movies, maybe watching a new show. Nevertheless, your life is not what you'd been hoping for.  
And, to top it all off, right as you enter the hoard of kids, slinging your backpack over your shoulders, you get a text message from your dad telling you that you need to walk home because he's late getting home from work. You audibly groan, maybe a little too loud, and the girl who's been making fun of you the entire year makes a disgusted face at you. You go off on a limb and flip her the bird- it's not like you'll ever see her again, anyway.  
You make your way out the school door, into the hot summer breeze, popping in your earbuds. If there was anything you didn't want to be doing, it was this. What you wanted to be doing was sitting in the passenger's seat of your dad's truck, with some cool AC and getting putting on some pajama pants the second you get home. Maybe you'd download the new Iron Man movie and watch that.  
You're on the highway now, and there's basically no cars on the road- strange, since it's right after school, but you could honestly give less of a fuck. You're close to rounding the corner, when you see it- you could pick it out of anywhere- a black, sleek, beautiful '67 Chevy Impala, and it's coming right toward you. You rip your earbuds out and you hear the roar of the engine and Back In Black by AC/DC playing from the open windows of the car. But there's no way, you remind yourself, because Supernatural is a fictional show with fictional characters.

But then the car gets closer, and you can just make out the long brown hair in the passenger's seat, and the blonde short hair, and you freeze. You realize, as the Impala gets closer to you, that it's slowing down. And as the car stops right next to you, you realize that you're right.

Dean is grinning at you, green eyes bright in the sun, and Sam is smiling at you awkwardly from the passenger's seat. Castiel is not in the back, but he isn't usually and you overlook that. You think for a second that maybe it's just Jensen and Jared, and an awful trick is being played on you, and maybe Ashton Kutcher is going to jump out of nowhere announcing that you've been punked.

Instead, Dean says, "Hey there, sweetheart-"  
"Dean." Sam protests, but Dean just rolls his eyes, and you giggle despite yourself. "Do you know where the nearest motel is?"

"I, uh-" you're shaking a little, and try to push back the situation and think of anywhere you can before it pops in your head. "Oh! Yeah, right down there, take your next left and it's about a mile forward." You say, and smile at Dean and Sam. "Thanks, sugar." Dean says, and then the next thing you know, the Impala is speeding away leaving you alone.

The Winchesters are real.

Dean just flirted with you. Twice.

Sam just corrected him even though you're technically eighteen.

The Winchesters are real.

But what are they doing here? You scan your mind for anything you've heard of on the news recently, any strange murders. One pops up on your mind that you barely remember the details of; a man was murdered by a single gash on his neck and bled out completely, but you don't remember much else because you were too busy not caring.

With that last thought, you realize what's happening. You shove your earbuds back in and turn around and run as fast as you can in the other direction, towards the nearest motel, towards the Winchesters.

...

Okay, so you're not exactly the star athlete. It takes you about half an hour to run all that way, especially because you only ran for the first ten or so minutes and maintained a sad little jog the rest of the way. Hey, it's summer and it's hot out. No one would blame you. But by the time you get to the motel, the Winchesters are nowhere to be found.

And you check. You circle the tacky, pink-painted motel three times over. You peek in all the windows you can, thinking that maybe Dean took out the Imapla and Sam stayed, but there's no sign of them anywhere. They're simply gone. You think maybe that they're just getting a bite to eat after checking in and that you could wait there, but that'd be pretty creepy. Okay, maybe the entire act of following them was creepy in itself, but it was in a moment of desperation. You're thinking over your two options, sitting on the curb, when your phone starts buzzing.

You pick up without checking the caller ID, and immediately after saying 'hello', your father's voice is screaming into your ear and you pull it back a bit.

"Where the HELL are you? You should be HOME by now, I'm so worried! I've called TEN times without an answer! You should be HOME RIGHT NOW!" You cringe and suppress a sigh. Of course, you slip up once and your dad is angry with you; typical.

"Hey, at least I'm not on drugs. Or pregnant." You snap, standing up angrily and brushing the dirt off your jeans with your free hand.

Your dad barks out an angry laugh. "Yeah, okay. Tell me where you are so I can pick you up."

You figure that telling your dad you're at the cheapest motel in town might sound a little suspicious, so you lie and say the nearby Burger King. You say you were picking up some fries on your way home- sorry, you ate them all- and you'll be waiting outside. It's right across the street, and on your way there you're still extremely disappointed to see that Sam and Dean are nowhere to be found there, either.

Not more than ten minutes after does your father pull up in his dark blue truck. It's old, but it smells like leather and you love it. Your dad was supposed to hand it down to you and buy himself a new one once you turned sixteen, but right before then, your mom died and the bills started getting harder to pay. It was easy enough to talk about college, but the reality of it was too far away for you. The only realistic way you'd be able to get in was on a scholarship, and for what? Showing up? Which, by the way, you failed to do on numerous occasions.

You slip into the passenger's seat of the truck and drop your backpack on the floor before looking at your dad, surprised to see that he looks less angry with you and more relieved.

"I thought you were kidnapped." he says to you, and you feel guilty. "I'm sorry, dad. I just needed some time to think for a second. It wont happen again," you say, and then you realize that it will literally never happen again because you're never going to school again. But he doesn't point it out, and instead sighs, and tells you it's okay, and then you two head back home.

Home is a two bedroom house with an overgrown backyard and front lawn. It's overly clean, because your dad is a germaphobe. The couch is old and the TV is slightly discolored, but it has wifi. The rarely-used dining room table is old and creaky. But you barely spend any time outside of your bedroom, anyway, which is the place you head to the second you get inside.

You drop your backpack on your bed, throw your jeans on the floor and slide into last night's pajama shorts, retreat to the kitchen for a few minutes to retrieve a bag of Cheetos, and then go back to your room and open your laptop.

Of course, you consider making a post.

But then again, who would believe you? "Hey guys, I just saw the fucking Winchesters!" No one would, that's who. No, you couldn't tell anyone. But you had to do something.

The Winchesters were in town. They were real, and they were in town, and they were here, and oh my god.

You shut your laptop and push it aside, flopping back onto your bed. You close your eyes, and it's not long before you're asleep.

...

You wake up, what must be hours later, to the sound of glass shattering downstairs. Warily, you slide off your bed, blinking away the drowsiness of sleep. You tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear, stop, and look out the window. It's dark outside, you slept until the sun went down. You close your eyes and listen; silence, and then the wood floors creaking. You hear your dad's voice asking, "Who's there?". Nobody replies.

You're on edge, and you think of the odds that whatever Dean and Sam are hunting are here, in your house. You know that's probably ridiculous, but you still bend down and retrieve the small ziplock bag of salt you keep under your bed just in case. You stuff it into the pockets of your pajama shorts and slide on some socks and your slippers, and just before you open the door, you hear your dad scream from downstairs.

You throw the door open as hard as you can and sprint down the hallway, rattling the crooked picture frames hunt on the walls. A book falls from a shelf as you run down the stairs and into the living room. "Dad?" You ask into the moon-lit room. You are suddenly on edge more than ever, the adrenaline rush you received from hearing him yell completely drained. You creep through the living room, around the couch and into the narrow kitchen. You grab a knife from the holder, hold it tightly as you can, and think, Dear God, please don't let me be the idiot in the first five minutes of Supernatural.

You walk through the dusty dining room, to the opening that goes to the front room that leads to the front door and coat hangers, and it's there that you have to withhold a scream.

Your father is lying on the ground. You can't see his face, but his head and shoulders is in a giant pool of his own blood. You cover your mouth, frozen in shock, and you look up only slightly to see two black-eyed people standing above your father- a man and a woman, both clearly motherfucking demons.

"What the fuck- you killed my dad!" You scream. The woman smiles nicely at you, and blinks, her all-black eyes turning into green ones. She takes a step at you, but you do all but snarl at her and yank out your bag of salt, open it, and throw all of it at her. She screams and falls to her knees, clutching her face with her hands, and the other demon comes at you. You could run, but your odds are against you- he's taller than you by a foot and has more muscle than fat. You clutch your knife and think that at least you'll go out with a fight, not like a screaming dumb chick on the show that watches in horror as her boyfriend dies, and then runs up the stairs even though the front door is literally right next to her- ANYWAY, not the point.

As you back up and the demon slowly stalks toward you, you become outnumbered as the lady demon gets up, however still weakened by the salt you threw in her eyes. Just as you back up into the old wooden table, the door bursts open, and Sam runs in, Dean and Castiel following behind. You exhale as both demons turn around in surprise. Dean shoots the female demon between the eyes, and Castiel grabs the fist of the male demon as Sam shoots him in the face in turn, and he falls to the ground in front of your feet.

You swallow. Sam does the chest thing and you stare right at him, and they stare right at you.

"Hey, wait- aren't you the one who told us how to get to the Motel?" Sam asked, squinting his eyes at you. He's ridiculously taller than you, and you have to crane your neck to look directly at him.

"Hey, it is! The cute, awkward one." Dean says, a wolfish grin on his face. Then he switches his expression to one you've seen him give girls on the show more times you can count, and he ways, "Hey, you eighteen?"

"Uh, my dad's bleeding out on the floor," You offer. Smooth. You could hit yourself.

"Oh, shit-" Dean leans down and flips your dad over, and you hurry over and lean down. His eyes are open, and blood is all over his face, in his hair, on his shirt- you hold back a sob- a tear falls onto his face. You didn't see your mom at her funeral- it had been a closed casket. You're realizing it now- your dad is dead. You're alone. All alone with not enough money and not good enough grades and the graduation certificate you hardly earned. Your dad's going to be buried, and you're going to have to sell the house and probably live in a shitty apartment- you're going to be homeless, you're- you're-

"Woah, hey, just sit down a second." You snap out of it, realizing that you'd completely lost it. You'd been sobbing, clutching your dad's body- there's blood all over your clothes and face, your face is wet and your throat is sore. Not only that, but you'd literally lost it right in front of the people you'd probably do anything to impress. This is the worst day of your life.

Sam is the one who spoke- he's leaning down beside you with a huge hand on your shoulder. You lean back and sniff, wiping your face with your arm. You look up at them, looking into each of their faces; Dean is looking sad for you, like he's internally battling weather or not to give you a hug or stand his ground. Castiel is looking vaugley uncomfortable, and like he has something to say. Sam looks genuinely sad, like he's going to hug you until you feel better and have a LoTR marathon with you and give you chocolate until you feel better.

You stand up, smiling awkwardly at them and say, "I've got a lot to tell you."

Dean quirks an eyebrow. "What do you mean? We just met."

You sigh. "Yeah, about that..."

...

You don't tell them right away. First, you take the body of your father and put him on the couch, lay a blanket over him. Then, you take the bodies of the demons and burn them in the backyard. Afterwards, you make Dean, Sam, and Castiel some coffee while you go upstairs to shower, after making them promise they wont leave you there alone. Not like you think Sam would let them, but.

You step out of the shower, the cold air nipping at your skin, and wrap a towel around your body. You wipe away the steam from the mirror, looking at yourself- your puffy eyes from crying in the shower, your wet hair. You have no parents anymore, no one to take care of you- you're eighteen, and very distant with the rest of your family. No one will be willing to take you in. You don't have any friends.

You sigh and instead of moping, you brush your teeth and apply a slight amount of makeup. Your hair will do what it does. You head back to your bedroom and throw on a pair of shorts, a t-shirt, the black zip hoodie you wear literally every day, and your red converse. You go back downstairs, feeling water droplets from your hair soak through your shirt onto your shoulders and neck.

You walk into the dining room, where Dean, Sam, and Castiel are sitting together awkwardly. Dean is fiddling with the pepper shaker, Sam is chewing on his cheek and looking around, and Castiel is staring into blank space, only snapping out of it when you enter the room. Sam greets you with a wave and Dean says "Hey." You smile back.

You pull the chair back and slide into it, and crane your neck. "So, um. This is going to sound really weird."

"Well, uh, we kind of live weird, so I'm sure it's not that bad." Sam said, smiling at you. You smile back. "Yeah, um. Well, I'm sure this is going to be pretty weird."

"You guys are Sam and Dean Winchester. You're demon hunters. That's Castiel- he's an, er- Angel of the Lord, I guess. I know because you guys are on a TV show called Supernatural- I watch it, um, sometimes." Okay, so maybe you dummed it down a little. But they'd probably be freaked out if you confessed your undying love for them, so.

"Woah, hold on- what the fuck? How do we know you're not just some stalker?" Dean asked, raising his eyebrows defensively. You open your mouth to reciprocate, but Castiel- who hasn't said a word since he arrived, interrupts you. "The girl is right. I've felt a shift all day. I knew something strange has happened. It seems we have switched universes- again." He groans. "I will handle this," he says, and then dissapears out of thin air.

"I have a name," you mutter.

"Sorry about him." Sam says. "He's been like that all day. Alternate realities aren't really Castiel's cup of tea."

"I'll say. He turned down Steak and Shake earlier. I've never seen that guy turn down a good burger when he could get one." Dean mutters, taking a sip of his coffee before looking at you.

"Hey, what's your name, anyway?" he asks. You tell him. He nods. So does Sam.

"So, I guess if you watch this show, you know everything about our lives huh?" Dean asked, not much of a question. "Wait, is this the same universe that we were in the first time? Do you remember that? Is that Misha guy dead here?"

You raise your eyebrows. "You mean in The French Mistake?"

"The what?" Sam and Dean say in unison.

"I mean whaaat? No, um, yeah, I remember that- No, Misha's not dead, he's got a wife and kid- so do you. And you." You say, looking at Sam and Dean. "I mean, yeah, they're not technically yours- Jensen, he just had a daughter- her name's Justice. And you- well, Jared, has a son named Thomas."

Dean makes an impressed face. "Wait, is my wife hot?"

"Uh, yeah." You shrug, smiling at him. "Anyway- what do we do now? I mean. Like. You know. My dad's- well."

Dean looks at Sam. "Well- usually after this stuff happens, you know, the police are called at some point, you have a funeral and live your life. You know." Dean says, shrugging, not looking directly at you. "Where's your mom?"

"Oh, um- she died in a car accident a few years ago. I guess it's just me now," you say quietly, poking at the cuticle on your thumb.

"You don't have any family that'll take you in?" Sam asks, giving you that sad puppy dog face again.

"Um- well. My dad's side of the family is mostly all dead, and my mom's side of the family doesn't talk to me or my dad- so it's really not worth it. I could sell the house, but it's clearly not worth much." You shrug again. It's weird sharing this with them- not exactly awkward; you know pretty much every emotion, sickness, memory they've ever had. It's like talking to an old friend. Probably not for them, but they're the ones who're asking.

"What about college? How old are you, anyway?" Sam asks again, and Dean perks up in curiosity.

"I'm, uh, eighteen. Turning nineteen in a few months. I didn't get accepted into any of the colleges I wanted to go to- I um, have really bad grades. Ever since my mom died it just didn't seem worth it anymore. Nothing did. I know I should've tried harder, I just..." you bite your lip, determined not to cry in front of them again.

"No, I mean, we totally get it, our- well, I mean, I guess you already knew that." Sam huffs, sitting back in his chair. Dean is completely silent, staring at his coffee.

"I get it." He says, breaking a two-minute silence. "I mean, you can ask Sammy- if you didn't already know- I mean, I had awful grades. I guess that makes sense, we were always in and out of schools, but. I was never exactly good in the school department."

You smile at him, and he gives you an awkward smile back, and you guys just sit, the atmosphere feeling comfortable.

Castiel returns a few minutes after that, standing between you and Dean. "It seems in this universe demons, angels, the Winchesters- they all exist. We should be able to return easily. We will simply have to cast a spell, drink the potion- easy."

Dean grimaced. "Is it going to taste awful?"

"Most likely." Castiel says grimly. "I have the ingredients- the making of it is fairly simple. All we have to do is mix them together until they're a liquid." Then, out of his trench coat pocket, he pulls a large bag full of disgusting-looking items. You think you see a lizard in there. You try not to gag. Castiel looks at you and smiles a bit. "Do you have anything I could turn these to liquid with?"

"You mean like a blender?" You offer, and he nods. "Uh, yeah." You slide off your chair and walk into the kitchen, trying to remember where you put it, and you hear them talking in the other room as you look.

"Dude, she's eighteen."

"Dean, stop being a pedophile. You're thirty-three."

"So? She was totally checking me out. Dude, she's smart though- smarter than me at eighteen."

"I hate you."

"You love me."

"Did you notice, though- she threw salt on the chick demon? She knows her stuff."

"I believe she can hear us," Castiel interrupts, and you almost drop the blender that you're pulling out of the cabinet, but you catch it and plug it in. "In here!" you say, and Castiel comes in, Dean and Sam following him like ducklings.

"Do you know how to work this?" You ask Castiel, as he sets the bag of questionable items on the counter top. He stares at the blender as if it would tell him all the answers to the questions of the universe before saying, "No." and so you do it for him. You open the bag- whatever's inside smells fucking awful, and you dump it inside the blender and put on the top. "Okay, here goes nothing." you say, and then you press the button and the grinding noise is so awful that everyone covers their ears except you, because you have to hold the button.

You hold it for a good three minutes until whatever's inside stops bumping and it has the consistency of a smoothie. "Alright," You say, "Disgusting, questionable matter smoothie for three."

"I guess we can just take this back with us. Uh, you don't mind, do you?" Sam asks, looking at you before taking the container. Your heart sinks- you'd been trying to ignore the fact that they were still going to leave you here. "No," you say, and he takes it.

Dean looks at you as Castiel and Sam awkwardly shuffle out of the kitchen. "I guess this is goodbye. You might want to call the police- say someone broke in, I dunno. Your story might be more believable if you hadn't had showered first, though."

"Uh, yeah." You say, and try to shove back down the choked sound in the back of your throat. Dean leans in and kisses you on the forehead, and you blush, and he smiles at you, and you wave back, and then there he goes.

And the second you hear the door close, you think, Not this time.

You run through the kitchen, dining room, and front room, throwing the front door open. "Wait!" you yell, running into the front yard and driveway, where the three of them are getting into the Impala. Dean turns back to look at you, and so does Sam and Castiel. Castiel is smiling slightly, like he knows something. Dean and Sam look utterly confused, as if silently asking if you forgot something with them.

"Take- Take me with you," you say, just loud enough for them to hear it. Dean looks surprised, then confused, and both of them open their mouths to protest. "No, just listen to me! I- I've got nothing going for me. I'll barely be able to get a job, I don't have any friends. I cant go to college. All I've got is this house- just-" you close your eyes and take a deep breath. "I know what you're going to say. 'We didn't choose this life, neither should you', but. Choosing to go with you would be the only choice I can actually make. Everything else is just going to sort of happen to me, and there'll be nothing I can do about it. Just... please."

Dean stares at you, and you can barely read his expression- exasperated, like he wants to say yes but he knows it's not right. Behind him, Castiel has already gotten into the car and shut the door, and Sam is bending down. You realize that he's putting the drink on the floor, and he walks around the car for a minute and tugs on Dean's jacket sleeve. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" you hear him ask, and Dean sighs and says, "Okay, yeah."

They go around to the side of your house, and you're fidgeting. This is all you have- right here, you're looking at it. As the moments pass to minutes, you get more worried. You wonder which one of them is actually considering letting you go with them. Maybe neither. You chew the inside of your lip, bounce on your heels, and then Dean comes around looking stern. Sam looks... all sorts of different emotions, happy possibly being one of them. Dean walks up to you, and your heart sinks again- he's gonna try to let you down easy, you can tell by the look on his face.

He walks up to you and puts a hand on your shoulder, and then he gives you this serious smile, and points at you.

"We're going to establish some ground rules, you hear me?" You're grinning so hard that your cheeks hurt, and you nod.

"First, no dogs. Ever. Second, you get to pack one duffel bag, got that? And third, no fucking Castiel. Or Sam. I'm pretty sure anyone who's ever fucked Sam is dead, so, just, do not fuck Sam. Are we clear?" he finishes.

"Thank you," you whisper, and you don't realize you're crying until your subconsciously wiping the tears from your cheeks.

"Yeah, alright, no chick flick moments. Now, you back your bag. We'll be waiting here."


End file.
